The Short Lived Life of Assassins
by TrueFlint
Summary: Blood and Flesh has the potental to bring many things... hate, voilence, sacrife, even love. When the Blood and Flesh of Sonic the Hedgehog had been spilled, an assassin known as Flint Heartlockett takes the blame. He must shed more blood to live. OC's!
1. An Assassin's Hobbies

**New Series! As far as begginings go, this one isnt to bad. Hopefully it will grab you. I try to update when I can, right now I'm working on another story, The Spread. Be sure to read it ^_^**

**And without further adu, here you go! Enjoy! **

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><p>Chapter 1: A Killer's Hobbies<p>

Flint sat in the metal chair as he wiped the blood of his spiked gloves. His parter stood next to him, sending a photo of the dead crime-lord's corpse to the client to confirm a job well done. These guys are anything _BUT_ your average hitmen. They are assassins, a perfect mix of stealth and lethality. Ten thug corpses surround the two assassins, all of which were either slashed across the neck or shot in the head. These two were the definition of effective. The female assassin's phone beeped an annoying tune, notifying that she had an incoming message. She flipped it open to read; _Good job, you two. $21,000 dollars has just been transferred into your bank account. Our business is done. Tell Flint I told him he did a good thing._

Rosevell flipped the phone closed, with a loud _**Click**_. She turned towards Flint, who was snapping in a fresh 9mm pistol clip from his black coated tactical vest. "The client told me to tell you that you did a good thing." Rosevell said; unloading an empty clip from her Berreta 50. Cal Sniper, and slapping in a new one. The empty magizine dropped to the floor quicker then then the corpses did.

"Since when is killing ever a good thing?" Flint said, his voice colder than ice.

"It's good when the guy we've killed has been in the weapons trafficking business for years. Think about all of the peace we have just made in the middle east!"

Flint sighed, "I know, I know. But think about it, Rosevell. If it werent for assassins like us, my brother would still be alive." Flint put his hand on his forehead, forcing his bad memories to fade out. Five years ago, when flint was only 16, Flint's brother, Matrixx, was killed by assassins for taking out a large loan from an extremly notorius crime lord. Matrixx was the only one who Flint could trust. Once Matrixx had deceased, things began to fall apart. The house went into fore-closure. Flint began to drift away from his friends. And worst of all, the horrific event had left an enormous hole in Flints heart. They loved each other, in a brotherly sort of fashioin. The only thing Flint had left to remind of his brother was his Pistol, an M9 that Matrixx bought with the loan. _Your so fucking stupid... _Flint thought, _how could you leave me like that? How? _Rosevell took a seat next to Flint and embraced him, in hopes that he would calm down. Flint had told her time and time again of his sad tale.

"It's okay..." Rosevell whispered into his ear.

"I honestly don't have an opinion about killing, Rosevell..." Flint began, trying to cover up his emotions, "It's just that the client only hired us to ensure that his competitors can no longer sell weapons, thus making his personal market income increase, which in no way is helping to decrease the weapon sales on the black market..." Rosevell just looked at him, wondering what has gotten into him. Flint turned his back towards Rosevell, hiding his emotions... he said the magic three words that had alwayed ended the conflict...

"It's just business..."

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><p>It had been two hours since the evil deed had been done. On the ride home from the targets location, Rosevell had activated her PDA and scrolled down her and Flint's secure bank account. According to thier PayPal account, they currently had $69,000 dollars. About $10,000 dollars had been added on recently. While it damaged your moral standings, being an assassin had its perks. No struggling through the tough economic times, no robbing banks to pay the bills, and most importantly, no worries about having your enemies coming back for you and harming your loved ones. As far as all of the magor crime lords believe, assassins are just the middle men. They are the effect of a cause. You cannot terminate an effect as you would a cause. These were the simply rules of the assassin games Flint and Rosevell play so often.<p>

The duo of killers had arrived at thier more than humble adobe. They lived in a high class area, where the only houses available were three story buildings and mansions. The two assassins lived in a mansion together. It came as a package deal when the two had decided to work together. They had proven to be two times more effective when they were on a hit. Flint opened the white lexus's car door and stepped out, stretching his lower back.

"You know..." Flint began, now cracking his neck, "The Lexus is nice and everything, but don't you kind of wish there was more space to put your legs?" Rosevell stepped out of the car, un-affected by the fancy car's tight interior.

"Not really. As long as it fits all of our equipment, then its fine." Rosevell dug into the car trunk and pulled out a large duffle bag, which Flint knew was obviously filled with sniper and pistol magazines, modded C4, and other ordanance. Flint yanked out the key to the high-class vehicle and walked along the cement path to the front door besides the pink-haired echidna. Ever since they had been working together, the two had bonded very close together. They approached the door. After Flint jambled with his key ring and unlocked the door, the two had stepped into the rather large mansion's interior.

"Here, let me take that for you..." Flint said, as he slipped Rosevell's duffle bag from her arm to his. "I got it." Flint took off his shoes and made his way down the corridor without question. Right passed the bathroom lay the Armoury, which no doubt was filled with all kinds of glorious equipment. The supplies in the metal room ranged from Assualt Rifles to little suit-cases that explode when you open them. Some of the methods the two used to elimate thier targets were... interesting; depending on the client's prefrence.

Flint punched in the fourteen-digit code number and opened the Armoury door. He unzipped the duffle bag and placed all the equipment in thier designated areas. Uzi's go on the sub-machine gun rack, while fragmentation grenades go underneath the Assualt Rifle rack, in the Grenade compartment. All of thier assassins funds went into aquiring new equipment for thier line of work. Flint stuffed the duffle-bag with the othere duffle bags under the Weapon Mods compartment and closed the armoury door. He back-tracked through the corridors. In the main living room, where they had first entered through the door, lay a black leather couch, an HP Laptop sitting on the wooden table made from Chankiri tree, a 1500x1500 HD flat-screen TV, and a pink echinda with an expression on her face that said '_Bored out of my fucking mind_'. Flint sat on the other end of the couch, trying to avoid Rosevells bare feet.

"Whatcha watchin?" Flint asked, boredom invading his voice.

"The news..." Rosevell said, her expression on her face blank.

"Anything new happen?"

"Yea, they just found the bodies of a weapon trafficking crime lord and his ten thugs." Rosevell snickered. "You wouldn't know bout any of this, would you?"

"Mabye." Flint said, amused. The two were good friends. Ever since Flint's client had paired him up with Rosevell about ten years ago, the two were un-sepertable.

"Hey..." Rosevell cut in Flint's thoughts, "Whens the last time you've been to a club?" The grey and blue striped fox snickered...

"When's the last time I've drove a $1,000,000 dollar Lamborgini Duex Premuim car off a cliff due to bing-drinking?" Rosevell snickered at the memory, an event that had taken place about eight months ago. They had good times together.

"That's fair. But we should be partying or something..." Rosevell complained, jumping off the couch and throwing on her jacket. Flint grabbed her by the shoulder.

"You know that its not wise to show in public... espiecally in clubs."

"Oh come on Flint." Rosevell whined. She threw a leather jacket his way. Flint snatched it out of the hair with his right hand. "You gotta loosen up some." Flint thought this through a little while, stroking his striped tail in between his fingers.

"Well it had been a while since I've gotten wasted..." Flint snickered.

"Alright, lets roll!"

"Wait! I gotta get something." Flint shoved his sneakers on and made a second trip to the armoury. Posed above the wall by a display case, was a Sword, with an edged blade and ripped handle grip. The assassin took the weapon with him everywhere in public. You just never know when some body reconignizes you... untill its too late. It was small enough to conceal in his jacket and was made of a specail alloy. While it remained hard, sharp, and effective, it did not set off metal alarms, making transport from airport to airport easier than ever. The fox had used this blade for more than a decade. Even before his brother's departure, he had trained in the deadly art of Pivit Magua, a form of martial arts that mostly involves sword-to-sword and hand-to-hand combat. What makes this one of the most deadly forms of martail arts in the world, is the amount of stamina it requires to peform the effective hand motions needed to properly weld a sword for this type of combat. Flint took it off the rack and wrapped it around his torso with the sword strap the grey-striped fox had made onto it. He ran back to the living room, with an agitated pink echinda waiting for him.

"Ready."

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><p>"This him?" The notorious crime lord asked, his voice demanding respect.<p>

"Yes sir." One of his assistants confirmed, further examing the file. Besides from contact information, such as the subjects name, adress, and phone number, was a white and black picture. The subject had quills pulled down to his back, and appeared to be of hedgehog species, with a smirk that said '_Whats up?_'. This subject was highly popular with the community.

"Alright..." The crime lord said, releasing a puff of smoke from his cigar. The small office had filled up with an addicting smell.

"Alright... send someone to deal with him..." The assistant looked at his boss, a smirk arising from his expression. Others misfortune had always amused the sick helper.

"Do you want to do it the way the client had prefered?" asked the assistant, scrolling through the underground hit page, browsing for an apprioprate hitman.

"Yes. More money. More power. We need this." The crime lord decided. He mashed his cigar into his ciggerate tray, putting out the small contained fire on the tip of the cigar and sending a small _Ftttzzz _sound through-out the room.

"Alright sir, it shall be arranged." The crime lord got up from his place from the chair and walked over to the window. They were on the third floor of a ware-house (aka gang HQ). He over-looked the small city blocks, observing people and cars all alike. _And to think that this will all be mine... _the crime lord thought to himself. All of the power in this urban city would soon be his...

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><p><strong>Hmmm I'm gonna JUMP right into that plot I got set up! Review! Review! Review!<strong>


	2. An Assassin's Plight

Chapter 2: An Assassin's Plight

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><p>Pop and Hip-Hop music invaded Flint's ears as he danced the night away with his partner in crime, Rosevell, in a plathora of people. They were at the Second Block Club, a public place to dance and get wasted. Rosevell could all ready feel her nerves getting loose. Flint jumped and bobbled to Lil Waynes 'Red Nation' as Rosevell broke away from the crowd and headed for the bar. Probably to get a cocktail or somethin. Flint continued to dance to his hearts consent, his clothes hopping up and down from his body. Ok, so mabye Flint was a little drunk... and by <em>a little <em>a mean _a lot_. Rosevell had been gone too long for Flint's liking. Despite the fact they were in no relationship what-so-ever, this didnt stop Flint from dancing with her like she was his. Sometimes he wishes it was so. _No... _he thought to himself. It would be impossible, with the life style they had lived together. Dating co-workers was probably the worst idea since youtube ads.

Flint stumbled across the Club floor, bumping into people along the way to the bar. On his way there, he saw a really popular member of the club... Sonic the Hedgehog. And of course, he had two lovely ladies in his arms and dudes surrounding him, listening to his tales of adventure! Flint had barely talked to the blue hedgehog, but he admired him all the same. He had accomplished many feats. Destroying the Eggman fleet, for example. Even though Flint could have done it if somebody had hired him too. Accually, back in those days. The duo of assassins had been asked once to eliminate Sonic on eggman's behalf. Despite the more than generous award, Flint and Rosevell turned the offer down. There are just some people you don't try to kill. Especially a hedgehog that was now running for Governer of their district. Flint contuined his adventure to the bar, dodging party-goers and drunken dancers. Once he finally reached it, the attractive pink echidna was sitting on a bar stool, while yelling at some dude who had probably said something stupid to her. Before Flint could even intervene, Rosevell took the bum by his jacket sleeves and flipped him over the bar counter, crashing him into empty wine glasses. Everyone looked in shock. For someone of Rosevell's size, this was a rather amazing feat. Part of being an assassin was always about having the better cards than your oppenent. The man coughed for a bit, then got up and walked away, glass shards still stuck in his back. Flint approached the battle hardened female.

"Shit... I'm glad I'm not that guy." Flint noted, humoring himself.

"Well if you want to stay out of the hospital... don't try to pick me up by commenting on how big my ass looks tonight." Flint almost spit out the wine that was in his mouth. Flint knew this was true, but of course he wouldn't be dumb enough to say it _like that_!

"Poor guy just wanted some attention." Flint joked, now banging his head to LMFAO's 'Sexy and I know It'.

"Oh he got attention alright..." Rosevell replied, cracking her knuckles against her palms. She was one tough gal... you had to be in this line of work. The music had just suddenly changed to another song of which Flint did not know of. All he knew, the beat was perfect. Flint extended his hand towards the pink echidna in a playful fashion.

"May I have this dance?" The assassin had offered. Rosevell grinned and took the offer. The duo of killers had danced the night away.

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><p>It had been two hours since the duo's attempt to have some fun. Rosevell had returned to her position on the couch, trying to get over her hangover, while Flint placed the unused sword back in its display case. It was still just as clean as when he took it out. Flint had returned to Rosevell and sat on a leather chair right next to the couch she occupied. The pink echidna was watching Channel 11 news, just for for raped teenager interview which would supposedly come on at 12:00.<p>

"So..." Flint began, making an attempt to break the silence, "Whats going on now? Politic wise?" Flint had always been into politics. When he was a kid, he wanted to be the district governer. But not the federation president, for he secretly knew that he did not require the amount of leadership for the job.

"Well, this is accually a pretty interesting piece they put together. You know Sonic the Hedgehog? That blue hedgehog that was running for district governor?" Of course Flint knew him, he just saw him at the club not two hours ago.

"Yea."

"Well they just found his dead body in the alleyway." Flint had almost dropped his mouth at hearing this. Sure Sonic had enemies, but he had a lot of friends too.

"When did this happen?"

"Bout an hour ago, apparently." Flint turned his head towards the TV, observing the scene. There lay civilains trying to get into the restricted area, cops holding back the civilians from going in the restricted area, and blood from the deceased corpse of Sonic. Flint grabbed a Soda that was sitting on the wood table, and snapped its metal spin back. He began to drink. It was an awful sight.

_And... _said the news reporter, Dyan Fisher, _The police have linked the killings to one individual... __**Flint Heartman Lockett**_. Flint had almost spit out his soda from hearing this.

_And this is going to make our most interesting news report yet! We have a live stream vidoe of the police about to make an arrest of this murderer. Walk us through, David._ Suddenly, the view from the human reporter inside her office had switched to a male fox, who was standing outside of what looked to be like... _thier mansion._

_Yes Dyan, this is going to be very interesting indeed, _said David, _I'm with the police here, and our camera crew is going to capture everything that happens tonight. _Flint got up from the comfy chair walked over to the window. He peered through the blinds to discover a reporter and a camera man... along with a small squad of SWAT. _Oh shit... _

"Rosevell!" He shouted, getting her attention.

"Yes?"

"We have to leave..." Rosevell just stared at Flint with concern. "Look at the house they're about to raid." Rosevell did just that, and her face almost went pale. She got up from the couch and ran to the armoury, packing whatever ordance could fit into two large duffel bags, while Flint grabbed the keys to thier safe house, which was on the other side of the house from the armoury. He could still hear the Television.

_Ok... and we're going in at 3...2...1... _At 'One', a huge explosion was heard, which was then followed with the sounds of footsteps invading Flint's and Rosevell's living room. They were inside the house!

Flint and Rosevell were now seperated. Rosevell was packing up thier extremely expensive equipment in the Armoury, while Flint was at the other side of the mansion, in the secret vault room. There was nothing in the vault but important documents and a key to thier safe-house. Flint grabbed the keys and shoved it into his pocket.

_Alright!_ Shouted a voice demanding authority, no doubt the squad leader. _Search the house! If you can take them alive, splendid, But these guys are killers! Permission to shoot on sight is authorized. _Flint shook his head in disaproval. What a fucked up goverment this was. The police didn't even give them a polite knock on the door before they barged in. Flint walked through the corridor, his back against the wall. As he moved silently through the hallway, he searched the corridor for a weapon. A pathetic looking lamp was found. Flint took off the lamp shade and held it in between his hands, as if the lamp served as an effective sword. This was going to be an interesting fight.

Rosevell had just finished packing up the AK47's in the weapon's duffle bag. The other duffle bag was filled to the brim with ammunition and equipment. The pink assassin grabbed both the duffle bags and reached for a spare Uzi on the weapons rack. They couldn't take everything, but whatever they could, they needed. Rosevell snuck out the Armoury and continued through the corridor, aiming her weapon down the passage. She heard multiple footsteps coming her way. These footsteps were more... resistant, than the footsteps Rosevell had normally encountered. The footsteps of her enemies spoke to her... told her that these men did not wish to shoot her... but will do it anyway. _Too bad, _thought. She was ready to pull the trigger and unleash a hailstorm of lead her attackers way as well. The footsteps were near now. About one more turn and they would both be in the same hallway. Rosevell edged the corner of the corridor, setting the duffle bags down to allow her to fight with maximum effectiveness. Rosevell breathed a deep breath, now ready to take on the SWAT. She leaned out of her cover and pulled the trigger.

*Click*

Rosevell contiuned to pull the trigger, in dis-belief to hear the terrifying *click* sound. No matter how many times she pulled the trigger, it always went *click* *click* *click*. The squad of corrupted SWAT members heard this, and turned around to see a pink echidna with a full-auto Uzi. They opened fire, bullet rounds began to tear at the walls. Rosevell retreated to her cover; searching through the duffle bags for a weapon. _Shit... _she thought. She had a habit of not keeping the weapons loaded when not in use. Very bad habit indeed. Rosevell put down the Uzi, and held out her fist. She was waiting. After about one-hundred bullet rounds had torn up the her cover, she heard a single footstep. This was her chance. She saw the shotgun barrel turning the corner and acted on instinct. She took hold of the shotgun and kicked the SWAT member in the stomach, forcing him to roll over and release the weapon. She cocked back the pump action shotgun and leaned out of her cover and pulled the trigger. A bargade of pellets shattered against a SWAT members chest, sending him backwards and causing him to fall on the ground in pain. The assassin had only three more SWAT guys to deal with. The other two were rolling on the floor in pain, both of them would live.

Rosevell ducked back into her corner has a speeding bullet struck her in the knee. She fell back, releasing a small cry, and allowing the shotgun to escape her grasp. The weapon slide across the hallway like it was on ice. Rosevell had been injured. She looked back at the armoury door, and attempted to make a crawl for it. She didn't get too far though. The remainder of the SWAT squad had turned the corner and turned Rosevell on her back, forcing handcuffs to painfully go around her wrists. Rosevell relized that she had just been captured. This had only happened two times! Once when Rosevell and Flint had gone into a gang hideout, and another when she had been shot in the leg and arrested by SWAT... which was today. Before two of the SWAT guys could lift her up and carry her out the mansion, and into jail, there was a sharp _**CRACK **_behind them. The third SWAT guy fell to the ground, unconscious. A slender grey and blue fox stood over him, wielding what looked like a busted lamp. The two SWAT's made an attempt to bring up thier weapons and put bullet holes through Flint's chest, but he was just to quick. He brought up his right fist and slammed it into SWAT guy number one, and extended his right leg into SWAT guy number two, side kicking him into the wall. The SWAT squad had been defeated, all of which either unconscious, or rolling in the ground in pain. Flint bent down and picked a key from the squad leader, using them to release the hand cuffs on his partner. He saw Rosevell's bullet wound.

"Are you okay?" Flint said, concern filling his voice.

"Yea..." Rosevell replied, cringing, "I'll be fine." Flint extended his hand towards her.

"Want some help?"

"Nah, I'm fine." Rosevell said, grabbing the used shotgun and used it as support for her wounded leg, serving as a crutch. Flint picked up the two large duffle bags and the duo of assassins headed out to the garage, and leaving the area in thier get-away vehicle. Flint thought this all out while he was driving... he knew it wasn't luck... it was skill...

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><p><strong>You freaking better review this! And also, just a quick note. I'm pausing my other story so I can experiment with this one, see how good I can make it. I already made my own web of conspiracy! Trust me, if I can make this good, it'll be REALLLYY good. Review!<strong>


	3. An Assassin's UnderEstimation

**Look, bold letters! Enjoy and review, hopefully this is enough action to make your tummies satisfyied :D**

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><p>Chapter 3: An Assassin's Under-Estimation<p>

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><p>They made it, with surprisingly no cops following them. Flint parked the car near what appeared to be a warehouse and then stepped out of the car to help Rosevell get to her feet. Despite her makeshift crutch, the pink young assassin could sense an injury when there was one. And this one was serious. It's a good thing the SWAT guy who shot Rosevell in the knee had used a 9mm, or the bullet would have penetrated straight through the leg, thus causing her to eventually bleed out without the assistance of a hospital. Not only are hospitals expensive in thier district, but due to thier 'relationships' with the law, it would be hard convincing the surgeons not to call the police. Luckily, the safe house stored a multiple of sterile medical supplies, ranging from dis-infectent alcholol to bandages. The two hurried inside and shut the door behind them. They had triple-checked to make certain that no one had been tailing them. Flint sat the duffle bag's down and walked Rosevell to a nearby chair. The safe room the two had built more than five years ago wasn't exatcly 'high-tech'. You had your average TV in the corner of the room, a musty old couch, a computer with a big moniter screen, and a large safe, where they no doubt kept thier weapons and ammuntion. As for any other equipment, it gets thrown into a metal box set right next to the large safe. Before Flint could ask Rosevell if she needed assistance, she turned towards him, a stern look on her face.<p>

"Did you really?" She said, dumb-founded.

"What? Kill Sonic?" Flint replied, anger silently growing in his voice.

"Yes. Did you?" Rosevell repeated, while place a dis-infectent alcholol on her wound. She cringed in slight pain.

"No, of course I didn't." Flint spat, "I couldn't have just left you at the club to go whack a local celebirty off! Thats obsurd!" Rosevell sat quietly in her swiveling chair, thinking. She began to rub her hand back and forward in between her dread locks. The pink assassin looked up at the grey and blue fox, now fishing out the shattered bullet fragments out of her leg.

"Who would want somebody like Sonic dead?" Rosevell asked, no emotion broke through her voice at all. Only proves to show that the two were use to killings as such as this one.

"Eggman!" Flint shouted, slapping his hands together like he won the lottery. Back in 2021, there once lived a mad-man, who had gone by the name of eggman. He had been terrorizing mobius for over a decade before the Sonic came on the scene. He had proved to have even more skills than the two assassins. He didn't even need the assistance of a gun. All he needed was his speed.

"But..." Rosevell began, "Eggman hasn't been seen in more than one year." Flint shrugged.

"He always jumps off the scene for a little while just to come back and take everyone by surprise." Rosevell had gotten all of the fragments out, and began placing a bandage over her wound. She would be fine.

"True..." Rosevell began to think to herself. An idea popped! "There is no way that the police could have linked you to the killing of Sonic without evidence. We could go inflitrate the police station, grab the evidence, and possibly find something that we could trace eggman with." Flint sighed a heavy sigh.

"I don't recall us being detectives."

"Do you want you life back or not?" Rosevell said, crossing her arms infront of her chest.

"Yea..." Flint said blankly, looking at Rosevell for a response...

"Me too..." She admitted.

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><p>The sleek white car parked into the Police station parking lot, concealing two assassins in its tented windows. The male assassin had finished preparing for the inflitration; his tranquilizer gun had been loaded, the parking lot appeared to be almost empty, and the C4 had been meshed and prepped. Since Flint was so use to being the one to inflitrate, Rosevell had always served as the distraction for most of thier sneak-and-run's. <em>This should be easy... <em>Flint thought to himself. It was a rare event when word had gotten out about thier deeds as assassins. Stealth, sometimes, was Flint's only asset.

The blue stripped fox was now in the Police station, at the receptionist desk. No one was in the area but the receptionist. Flint sat down on a waiting chair; the receptionist had looked at him.

"May I help you?"

A quick blow to the neck would paralyze the unfit receptionist. But no... there had to a distraction. There always had to be... wether it was the noise of an empty soda can hitting the pavement... or a big ass explosion outside of a Police Station.

_**BANG!**_

Flint had remained in the chair as the entire Police Station had emptied out all of its officers. Once everyone was outside, examing the damage caused by Rosevell's C4, Flint had snuck into the Officer's Only area, making sure to avoid security cameras. Flint saw a sign, pointing him to the archives. _Pefect. _Flint followed the path the sign had laid out for him, looking for security cameras. As long as he wasn't spotted by a Security cam, no one would have ever known he was here. The path lead him down a set of stairs, into what appeared to be a basement filled with shelves. Files rested on the racks of the shelves. Flint began searching, looking through the recently added files. Anything on Eggman's disapearence or Sonic's assassination would do. Flint's careful fingers twidled of the files in the **S **section. He found a file with Sonic's name at the tab. He pulled it out and stuffed it into his leather coat. Flint contuined looking for Eggman's files, as both of them would be an asset. _Just my luck... _Flint thought, smirking. He stuffed Eggman's file with Sonic's file and tip-toed upstairs, praying that the Police hadn't headed back into the Station. Fortunalitly, there was just one Policemen heading to the Archives, where Flint was at, probably to pick up a report on explosion near the Police Station within the past year.

Flint hid behind the corner wall, pulling out his tranquilizer gun. Unlike any other pistol, this one had less stopping power and into of shooting lead, it shot out darts filled with sedating liquid, known as C2C. Flint waited for his oppurtinity. Despite the fact that Flint found it easier to knock out his oppenent with his fists, it was always a good idea to take the easy way out and just sedate the guy. At least he wouldn't remember your face. The police officer had just turned the corner and was now heading downstairs to the archives. Flint was ready. The grey and blue assassin turned the corner as well and pulled the trigger. The officer had been too close.

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><p>The sedating shot had missed, and the Officer had recovered from his surprised and charged Flint, knocking him to the ground. The tranquilizer gun slid had slid out of Flint's reach. The assassin was sprawled on the ground as the Police Officer got on top of him, pinning him down with his weight. This officer wasn't like human officer Flint had encountered. He was fit and skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Hell, this might not even be your average Policeman. Flint kicked the Police offer off him and got up from the ground, holding his fists up. The Officer began to reach for his side arm. Flint kicked it out of his hand at the right time, for now the Police Officer's weapon was also out of his reach. This was strictly hand-to-hand now. The Officer jabbed Flint in the face, sending him backwards a few and giving him a bloody lip. The Officer followed with a tackle to the ground. He was persistant to capture the Assassin. As the Assassin took the Officer's hits to the face, he looked up from his view on the floor. Underneath a shelf was his tranquilizer gun.<p>

Flint wrapped his arms around the Officer's neck, getting him into a sleeper hold. The two fighters were now on the ground. The Officer had enough of this and pulled out his baton from his utility belt, and began pelting Flint in the side, forcing the assassin to release his hold on him. Despite the pain rushing through his side, Flint slid to the shelf and reached for his tranquilizer gun. He aimed through the sights at the Officer, and just before he could grab the gun out of Flint's hand, he released a hail of sedating darts the Officer's way... all of which hit him square in the chest. The Officer dropped his weapon and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. _He won't be waking up any time soon... _and with that thought, Flint snuck out of the Police Station with the information he needed with no additional challenge ahead.

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><p>"Eh, what happened to you?" Rosevell asked, mischief in her voice. Flint looked in the car's rear view mirror to discover he had bruises at the bottom of his eye and a bloody lip. The two were back in the car and driving to the Safe House to analyize the date they had aquired.<p>

"Got in a fight." Flint said, wiping the blood from his lip.

"How bad?"

"School yard bad." Rosevell snickered and turned onto the Wicks Street, parking in the small warehouse garage. Once inside, Flint placed the two files near the computer, and heading to the bed.

"Where you going?" Rosevell called out. Flint turned the corner to a hallway.

"The bed." He replied bluntly. Before Rosevell could call out a smart remark, Flint closed his door and crashed on his bed. It had been a long day, but as a wise man had said, there ain't no rest for the wicked.

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><p>David Choke had just woken up, surrounded by what appeared to be people wearing sterile white doctor coats. He sat up voilently, remembering his duty as Chief of Police to ensure that the thug that had put him under had been arrested. He began to tear out the wires connected to his arms when a nurse had stopped him, telling him that they just needed to make sure he was fine before setting him loose. David had figured that remaining in the safe hospital bed was the best idea. Better to make sure he wasn't going to crash any time soon than rush out and fall on the ground. David clenched his fist. If it wasn't for that cheap shot with a trainquilizer gun, he wouldn't be here. He would be arresting that punk. But still, he knew he was lucky to be alive. He had been shot six time with sedating darts. If those darts had been filled full to the brim with C2C, that would be enough sedatives to make him go to sleep for a year! He laid back down in the bed, closing his eyes, and counting his blessings.<p>

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><p><strong>What will the next chapter bring. I have no idea . Nah jk. remember... Reviews make me happier :D<strong>


	4. An Assassin's Trickery

**Sorry that I've been in-active, other stuff has certaintly kept me busy. And now, without further a-do, heres chapter 4 of the epic saga. Review! :)**

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><p>Chapter 4: An Assassin's Trickery<p>

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><p>Flint heard a familiar shout. The grey fox got up from his position on the couch and walked over to the kitchen. An agitated pink echidna was waiting for him, a knowing look on her face. It had been six hours since Flint's encounter with the law.<p>

"What is it? Can't you see I'm watching the new episode of Glee?" Flint joked.

"No time for games..." Rosevell replied sternly, "I looked over the files we stole from the police station..."

"You mean the files _I _stole from the police station."

"Not the point. Anyway, Eggman's last known location was at the Metal City docks. Doesn't say why though." Rosevell said.

"And Sonic?" Flint asked blankly, fiddling with his M9 pistol. He had a habit of messing around with his toys.

"Get this. Apperently, Sonic was spotted near a gang hideout before he came to the club." Flint's expression filled with surprise. Everyone knew Sonic was outright against gangs.

"Why?"

"Doesn't say..." Rosevell said, reviewing the contents of Sonic's file. "There's nothing in these files to prove that we didn't kill him."

"And what evidence is there that proves that we _did _kill him?" Flint countered. Rosevell clenched her fist out of frustration.

"None that I know of." In a mix of fury and anger, Flint kicked over a, sending it flying to the other side of the room. He slammed his hands on the marble kitchen table, leaving a crack in the expensive material.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Flint shouted, sending echo's through-out the hideout.

"Well shit," Rosevell said, "Don't bust your cherry yet. We still have to investigate the dock and the warehouse." Flint began to calm down, his breathing had slowed and his heart-rate was slowing down.

"Sorry..." He apoligized, "I'm just really frusterated. I know that our life hasn't really meant anything but bringing death amongst our enemies, but I wish to continue to live untill I'm in a wheel chair with two, mabye three grand-children." Rosevell looked at Flint, understanding what he meant.

"In short..." Flint said, "I don't want to die."

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><p>If there was one thing one thing better than money... it was blood money. The dark assassin had learned this the hard way. He slipped a piece of paper from his pouch, overlooking the details entrailed on the note. The target appeared to be of a young age, perhaps twenty-four? The target was an assassin himself. Bangs were held over the striped fox, concealing part of his left eye, leaving a mysterious aura in the black and white photo. It was really quite ironic what the overlord had paid him to do. An assassin hunting down an assassin. The dark killer ran his gloved hands through his quills, hair coming up and falling down smoothly. Ever since his sister had died, he had gone down a dark path. Vandalism had led to theft, which led to armed robbery, and then eventually lead to murder. He had shed the blood of his enemies for a purpose, much more meaningful than money. The black and red assassin stuffed the piece of paper back into his trench coat, and stepped off the subway. The mysterious assassin walked through the channels leading to Metal City, his dagger concealed by his jacket. Out of all people, Shadow knew that this was more than business.<p>

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><p>Rosevell drove down the streets of Metal City, following the path the GPS had set for her. The two assassins had split up and headed towards different objectives. The pink female assassin drove towards the Dock, hopefully to find any clues or hints to Eggman's location. A left turn was made and she was on Prince Street. The GPS had notified her that the dock was only one right-hand turn away. Rosevell parked the car sloppily and searched the passenger cabinet for her firearm. <em>Perfect... <em>she thought, _a 45. Colt M911, gods most reliable pistol_. She slipped the weapon into the inside of her blue track suit and began to walk to the docks. She walked around the corner and was there, a platform, a plathora of storage crates, and a large body of water confirmed that this was the docks. She walked up towards the gate and pushed. Locked. The pink echidna jumped on the gate, digging into the fence gaps with her fingers and toes untill she was up and at the other side. She heard talking. Rosevell crept along a large storage crate and peered around the corner. There were six people, all of which looked appeared to be thugs. A suspicous bulge in thier jackets confirmed that they were armed. Despite this, it was nothing an assassin couldn't handle. Rosevell abandoned her cover and began walking right up to the six thugs, confidence covering her stride. One by one, the heads of the thug group turned and stared. Rosevell was in talking range now.

"You the reciever?" One of the thugs asked, raising a suspicous eye brow. Rosevell knew she had no time to think through the question...

"Yes." She replied, keeping her voice smooth yet authoritive. The thug turned towards one of his thug partners.

"Get the package." The thug said. The other gang member nodded his head and jogged behind a crate. He came back with what looked like a metal suit case. He handed it over to the thug leader and the thug leader passed it on to Rosevell. The pink imposter gripped the case and found the words that would allow her to leave without getting shot.

"I believe our business is concluded..." Rosevell said.

"Yes, it is." The thug said, crossing his arms. No more was said. Rosevell began walking back to the gate with whatever was in the suit case.

The thug leader rubbed his hands together, the thought of all the money he had just made was too much to take in. He felt an odd vibration in his pants pockets. He pulled out his LX Cell Phone and flipped it open. The client was calling him. He pressed the answer button and put the phone to his ear.

"Did the reciever get the package yet?" A suspicous voice said through the static.

"Yes sir..." The thug leader replied, now chewing at a tooth pick he keep in his pocket.

"Did you confirm that this is the right person with our code?" The voice replied. The thug agasped, dropping his toothpick. _Shit... _he thought. The thug was compelled to tell the truth.

"I forget, sir." He said sheepishly. There was an abrupt silence on the phone. The voice had returned.

"What did the reciever look like?" The voice had said, obviously trying to cover his frusteration.

"The reciever was female," the thug continued, "She was an echidna, with pink fur, a nice rack, and dreadlocks." After five seconds, the thug could hear objects being thrown and tossed around in a fury by the client.

"LOGAN, YOU DUMBASS!" The client shouted, nearly making Logan's ears bleed. "THAT'S THE ASSASSIN!" Logan went wide-eyed, and looked back towards the gate. The pink echinda was nearly at the fenced barrier. Logan dropped the phone and turned towards his gang brothers.

"SHOOT HER!" He screamed, now drawing his side-arm and aiming it at the pink assassin. He pulled the trigger, an explosion of lead was sent the assassin's way. It missed. The assassin was well familair with this sound and began towards the fence in a zig-zag motion. There was no time to think. The other gang members drawed out thier weapons and began to follow suit. Bullets tore up everything in sight but the female assassin. Rosevell had moved in a hasted yet graceful motion. She was now up the gate and began running down the street.

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><p>Gunshots were heard as Flint stepped out of the car. He shrugged it off. This was metal city. People were robbing and killing each other every day here. He walked up to the old warehouse, sounds of rap music was obviously muffled inside. The fox took inhaled a deep breath. Fifthteen years in the business and he still got the jitters before he inflitrated an enemy strong hold. He peered through a broken window. On the other side of the glass were about ten gang members, along with furniture, a large TV, and automatic weapons set on the table besides them. Flint knew his limits. He wouldn't stand a chance by himself against ten AK47 totting idiots. The fox assassin held his gun up in the air, and pulled the trigger. God knows where the bullet had gone off too...<p>

The pursued echidna slammed her car door and drove off, back to the streets. She looked at the suitcase sitting on her lap; wondering what its contents were. She took one hand off the steering wheel and ran it along the metal surface, feeling the indent of a symbol that had been crudely etched into the suitcase. It looked like an exotic looking bird. She returned her hands to the steering wheel and continued to drive, dodging cars and other obstructions. Rosevell peered into her rear view mirror. There were flashes of light behind her, followed by a loud banging sound a milli-second afterwards. Those thugs were chasing after her. Four thugs filled each car. One was driving, the rest were firing pistols out the passenger windows. Bullets collided with Rosevell's car, leaving a meer dent on where it had landed. Rosevell knew that they could do nothing to this car, for the re-enforced frame was made out of pure steel and the windows were made of the most reliable bullet proof material. But still; that didn't stop them from pulling Rosevell out and shooting her dead if they caught her.

Rosevell swerved out of the way of an 8-wheeler, and turned sharply into an alleyway, making that dreaded screeching sound of the tires. Rosevell stayed focus, managing to squeeze through the tight passage way and onto the other side. She peered once more into the rear view mirror. Thug cars filled up the alleyway. One of the cars had been stopped by a dumpster, which had flipped the car onto its backside in the tight passage. Yelling was followed by the accident. Rosevell gave a sly smirk as she drove onto Chestnut Road, heading towards the warehouse.

The noise from the neaby gunshot had earned the attention from the criminals within the warehouse. The front of the building was now being investigated by the thugs. Flint was just around the corner of the building, waiting for his oppurtinity. He saw it. All of the thugs backs were turned; the assassin crouched low and speed-walked towards the open door, successfully slipping in undetected. They would be back, Flint thought. And then it will be even tougher to get out. He had a limited amount of time to search the place. It was a small warehouse, shouldn't be difficult. The problem; if they found him, he was more than likely to get uber-fucked. He looked around, keeping the sound of footsteps out front in mind. There were about fifty crates stacked neatly onto large shelves in the back of the warehouse. No doubt that the crates were filled with weapons and drugs. Flint observed more and saw a stair-case, which lead into a single room, most likely an office of some-sort. He could've been looking for a small piece of evidence through fifty-crates, or he could take his chances and pray that something resourceful is in the office. He crept up the stairs, holding his breath every time his shoes hit the metal stairs. No matter how softly his footsteps had landed, it always produced a slight noise. A slight noise was all that was needed to get himself killed. He made it to the wooden door; opening it with caution. Before Flint could open the door, he heard a familiar ***click*** and froze, stopping his breathing.

"Come out..." A dark voice said on the other side of the door. "Hands in the air." Flint knew he had no other choice. If he were to run away, he might be shot in the back, depending on the voice's reaction time. He could just jump of the metal platform, but its height above the ground proved to be problematic. A wise choice would be to approach this voice and take him out, silently. One man is no problem. Ten men; with automatic weapons, was little to near impossible.

"Come on..." The voice grew impatient, "I ain't got all day." Flint opened the door and approached the voice. Flint's hands were in the air when he went in. His eyes caught a glimpse of his surroundings; a metal desk and a vault was all that laid in small interior office besides the man with the gun. The man's eyes were bloodshot.

"Your not one of my men..." The man said, pistol still aimed sloppily at the assassin. "Who are you?" Hands still in the air, Flint stepped forward, attempting to get closer to the man.

"My name is Chris..." Flint said. This had usually been his fake name, wether he was leading an organization of bad purpose on the wrong trail, or when he was just applying for a subscription for _Guns and Testorone _magazine. Common had told Flint to always use a fake when facing a stranger. Thats what Flint did to Rosevell the first time they met.

"What do you want?" The man said, obviously on the verge of doing something irrational. "I'm a busy man, I've not gotten all fucking day."

"Wait," Flint said, stepping forward again, closer to the man; the shiny gun. He wasn't close enough just yet...

"I've come here with a message..." Flint lied, hands still in the air.

"What is it?" The man said, his index finger was possed over the trigger. This underlord obviously was holding back, but for what purpose? Flint shifted forward; ever so slightly. The man stood up; fast, and pointed the gun at Flint's face. "Don't you take another fucking step." Flint froze, hands still in the air. The man walked towards him, now close enough so Flint could feel the man's foul breath. Flint saw his chance... and took it.

Flint extended his hand and swiped the pistol, the motion was too fast for the man too see. The table had been tilted.

"Now..." Flint began. The weight of the gun felt good. "Tell me who you are." The man jerked back his head and laughed a sick and twisted laugh.

"Who am I?" Said the cocky man, sarcasim filled his voice. Flint kept his stance; gun in hand, eyes set on a goal.

"I won't ask again..." Flint said, voice cold as ice.

"Sheesh kid..." The man gave in, "I am the infamous Joe Sanchasc Cherrels, or as everyone in this city calls me, The Pope."

"Never heard of him." Flint stated, "Just tell me who killed Sonic." Joe's grin disappeared, now serious.

"I would never hurt the fellow," Joe said, a sinsere tone had spread over the cockiness. Flint didn't believe it.

"Then who would?" Pressed Flint, trying to control his frusteration.

"Was he your friend?" Asked the crime-lord. Flint didn't answer. "If so, I'm sorry. Look, I was in no way involved with the murder of Sonic, okay? Related in no way at all." Flint looked into the eyes of Joe the crime-lord. _A shot from this gun would defiantly bring in this punk's goons... _Flint thought to himself. The Pope had not known it, but Flint knew when people lied to him... like when Rosevell lied about hiding the remote... when the social workers had lied that his brother's death had been for the best... when Flint lied to himself that everything would be fine... that everything would return back to normal... that the hole in his chest that his brother had left in him would heal with time...

"Are you... crying?" The crime-lord asked, incredibly confused. _Screw it... _

***BANG***

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed the chapter. And guess what? No edits in this one lol. I just wanted to get this done so I could get on with the plot. My web of conspiracy is ever expanding lol. Review! Review! Review! Why am I such a review whore? Who knows? REVIEW ANYWAY :)<strong>


	5. An Assassin's Leap

**Just updated the chapter while I make the new one. Enjoy ^_^**

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><p>The tough as nails gang leader had just been reduced to a little bitch; crying under the desk, holding his wounded leg.<p>

"WHAT THE FUCK MAN!" Flint wiped his tear of with his sleeve, ignoring the man's shouts. He heard footsteps. Coming up the metal stairs. Flint grabbed the man by his collar and hoasted him up.

"I can still use you..." Flint said, "but if you even think about being more trouble than what your worth, I'll fuckin end you..." The man looked at Flint, scared. "Okay?" Before the man could respond, Flint took him from the back and wrapped his free arm around his neck. Flint forced The Pope to shuffle towards the door. There were shouts outside. Flint kicked the door open and glimpsed at ten thugs, confirming that all of them were armed with automatic weapons. The only thing standing between Flint and the bullets the thugs would have hurled at him was thier boss.

"Let me pass." Flint said, authority in his voice. The thugs didn't reply, nor took thier sights off him.

"Let him pass." said Chris, giving in. The thugs relectantly obeyed; stepping aside. Flint and the hostage shuffled past the thugs; guns trained at the assassin. Surprisingly, no gunshots were fired, and Flint had made it to the front entrance of the warehouse, only to discover a brigade of cops aiming thier guns at the both of them.

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><p>Detective Espio looked over the files before making the call. About a day ago, an incredibly popular figure had been assassinated. Sonic the Hedgehog. Everyone had liked the blue speedster. <em>Born 2051, died 2072<em>. Thats what the file had read; _A very popular individual, Sonic had ran for Governer of the District on 2072, March 11th. On March 30th, Sonic the Hedgehog had been found stabbed in the stomach and head. Classified evidence suggests that the murderer is Flint Heartlockett. _Espio read over the file again and again; all the while chewing on his ink tipped pen. It was a bad habit. No matter how many times the detective had read the file, there was no exact reason for Flint's murder. He was a quiet guy, the detective knew. It was rather Ironic, really, for Espio had come to know Flint in high-school. He was anything but the average student. Always had avoided people, always wearing clothes that had stenched of drugs and alcholol. Espio knew Flint had a checkered past. But nothing specific to link the murder to.

Espio rested his legs on the desk; still chewing his pen. Whatever the reason, Espio would find it. He had to. He was District Two's best detective.

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><p>"Drop your weapons!" A voice said, ampilied by a mega-phone. There was about ten cop cars, each of which held two cops, which further more held guns. Flint shuffled back inside the warehouse, using The Pope as a body shield. The thugs inside looked at the hostage and Flint, and then looked out at the cops outside. They knew that they were out-numbered, but were they out gunned? After all, the police in District two were only authorized to use semi-automatic firearms. The heat the thugs were packing was much more advanced and deadly. But still, they had the more men.<p>

"Hey!" One of the thugs called out towards Flint, "The hells going on Hombre?"

"Your boss here brought all the attention for you guys and himself." Flint responded.

"Nah way man..." another thug responded, "your the fugitive, your the one they want..." the thugs looked at each other, and then at Flint. "I say we just give this mothafucker to the popo." Flint shuffled backwards, his gun was still aimed at thier boss's head.

"Try it, and your boss it dead." The thug threw his hands in the air sarcasticly.

"Okay, hombre. Looks like were just havin a lil stand off till they leave us alone." Flint nodded, still holding Chris hostage. This would certaintly not turn out good.

"ALL THUGS..." The mega-phone voice had called out, "WE ONLY WANT THE ONE KNOWN AS FLINT HEARTLOCKETT! NO HARM WILL COME TO YOU IF YOU GIVE HIM UP!" The thugs looked at each other...

"Told ya."

The mega-phone voice continued to rant about how dangerous Flint was. Flint knew he was dangerous. Thats what made him so good. The mega-phone voice had stopped, now silence had filled the air. It was too silent... Flint heard the sound of a small *click*. _Tear gas grenade! _Flint turned back and released his hostage; running ran for the metal stairs. Before the thugs could fire at Flint, they were succumbed over the effects of the tear gas, falling on the ground coughing. Flint was inside the small office, and began to take his jacket off. He tucked his leather jacket underneath the small space between the door and the floor, blocking the air out from the outside. He heard footsteps and shouts. He knew what was going to happen. If he stayed, he would be arrested and most likely get locked up in prison for life. Or, Flint could jump out the three story window.

***BANG* *BANG***

Flint knew what that noise was... gunshots. The noise had came downstairs. Flint opened the office door ever so slightly to witness officers of the law murdering the un-mobile thugs. That didn't make sense... the police were defiantly not allowed to do that. No police man would. It seemed obvious to Flint now, the goverment corruption smacked him right in the face. _Someone is pulling the strings_. Noises were heard; heavy footsteps were. Flint looked down outside the window. Beneath him was nothing but cement. Flint had spotted a stack of paper neatly stored on top of the desk. He shoved the wad of paper into his pockets before he jumped.

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><p>A pink echidna pulled up near the gang-warehouse Flint had gone off to. Rather than gang-members, there was a crowd of people surrounding two paramedics carrying a body bag. It was just that one body bag... Rosevell began to panic! The pink assassin got out of her car and ran to the body bag, shoving and pushing people out of the way. This wasn't the way she imagined Flint to go. They still had lots of things to do together. As she was bumping people out of her way, she began to think about the all of the things she had wanted to do with him. Her thoughts revolved around romance; about how the love of her life was gone... forever. She had wished she could have told him. She knew she couldn't, not in this line of work. Too many emotions for each other would cause one to get distracted, and Rosevell knew that in this line of work, a mere distraction can get you killed. She had seen it happen so many times.<p>

She was finally past the large crowd, now at the perimeter the police had formed with thier bodies. One of them had spotted Rosevell, and raised his hand. Looked to be in his mid-forties, yet frail, and fragile. It was more than easy for Rosevell to swing him to the side. The other cops had caught on and were now chasing Rosevell, who was chasing the body bag. It was almost in the ambulance, soon to be gone forever. The paramedics glanced at Rosevell and stopped moving the gatch bed to raise thier hands, attempting to will Rosevell to stop her assualt. It didn't work. She simply pushed the paramedics out of the way and zipped the body bag down. Shock and relief came over her. It was just a thug, shot in the head.

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><p>Flint landed with a thug and a <em>crack<em>. He attempted to stand up, but his left leg had spiked with pain. Flint crawled out of the alleyway and onto the streets, avoiding bystanders by crawling around them. He heard shouts back in the distance. The police must have seen the broken window and assumed he was making a run for it. Well, more like making a crawl. A car had pulled up onto the side of him, and the door swung open. A yellow hand out-strechted towards him.

"Get in..." A voice said. Flint knew he had no other choice. Flint crawled into the passenger seat of the car and drove off to god knows where...


End file.
